WITH LOVING INTEREST

WITH LOVING INTEREST

have
a window box
in my hellish suburb
hellish apartment

these
are more like cells
though they
call them mansions

no friend, lover,
family to speak of

keep
me company
help me through the bad

whatever bad others did
seemingly way within
the bounds
of forgiveness

in my little box
subject of all my
precious regard
and loving interest

a tiny flower grows
to prove science wrong
which said
I could not grow anything
in my hands
nothing would prosper

blossom
be bountiful, even
indeed multiply

but maybe
it is further
thing of deeper
punishment
malice
still to reveal itself

cherry
on the top
of my suffering
for eternal time